The Alcoholic
Dexter sat behind his iron-gray desk on the third floor of a decaying building reminiscent of the endless apartment blocks that housed millions in the old Soviet Union. Propped on the desk’s surface was a single framed picture of tools used in the trade he practiced on earth, including a screwdriver and a wrench. The pupils of his eyes gave off a dark reddish sheen that suggested a subtly disguised fury. His understudies feared and obeyed him. He was their master, assigned by whom they did not know. They were his unquestioning minions from the beginning of their residence in their shadowy world since they came over.
Dexter was a low-level junior devil greedy for promotion. He chose his name because it fit his notion of himself as dexterous. On earth he operated a car theft ring and a chop shop. He and his gang stole cars for their parts, which he sold to aftermarket dealers. He made a small fortune while dexterously avoiding criminal prosecution. Thus his name.
Sheeka was an outwardly handsome woman with harmonious features and thick brown hair she had always been proud of. But her lids drooped over sad eyes, whether from weariness or depression or illness or some other malady it was hard to tell. She looked about 35. Dressed in a grey pants suit, she faced Dexter on the opposite side of the desk.
His mood from the beginning suggested a sort of bullying impatience. They had talked before. It would be the same routine, the same brief flattery, then the interrogation and order. Sheeka took a deep breath and readied herself.
“Look here, Sheeka, you’re only a neophyte. Trust me. You’re like a virgin daughter to me. I will take care of your every need.”
Sheeka straightened her back at the seduction and batted it aside with contempt. She was determined to speak up and make him understand. She decided to say his name. She fought off nervousness and spoke calmly. “Back on earth, Dexter, I had my own body. Lurking around Evelyn’s is no fun. Even when I slip in, it’s not the same. Not the same at all.”
“Don’t be foolish, girl. You’re free of that ugly thing. Be glad.”
“Glad? I miss it. I could do things with it. Now I can’t do anything except through her. I look at her as she trims her toenails. I can’t even do that. I miss my mirror, my face, my perfumes, all my little things. Her things aren’t my things. I watch her brushing her teeth. Yes, brushing her teeth. Oh my god, brushing her teeth! If only—”
“Don’t be absurd! Get control of yourself. You’ve been pitying yourself from the day you arrived. Her body is like an estate she has to take care of. She’s caught up in a life of worry, toil, and cleaning and pampering it. But you’re free. You can walk through the front gate of her house any time. You don’t need a key. You can enjoy it any time of day as if it’s yours. And you can walk out on a whim. What’s wrong with the body you have now? Look at yourself. Why do you want that old physical thing? You don’t remember how it ended—those lumps on your breasts? You want that?”
She looked away from him and hung her head. “It’s not … it’s not … it’s not something I can drink with.”
“No, you can’t. But Uncle Dexter can fix things up for you. Why do you think I’ve teamed you up with that woman? She’s a drinker. You can drink through her.”
Suspicious, but tempted, Sheeka raised her head. “They warned me against this. They said—”
“Enough. I’ve told you over and over: Don’t listen to those glowbones.”
She remembered the first interview she had with a woman dressed in a shining white robe with an encouraging but worried smile. Sheeka wanted to tell Dexter about her one more time but didn’t dare.
“So what would you rather have?” He had begun to yell. “The sterile, boring life they offer, or a gin and tonic at Sassafrass’s, or maybe a vodka martini at Billikin’s, or a margarita with tequila, triple sec, and lime juice at Vada’s—depending on where she goes and what she craves? She’s your client, Sheeka, your enabler, barrister, and friend. Every Friday night she gets smashed. Tonight is Friday.” His voice calmed. “You will drink through her. Did you hear me? You will drink through her.”
Sheeka shifted in her seat with new life. Dexter went on, laying out the plan.
“She’ll be drinking alone tonight, sitting at the bar. She’s hot for the gin. You’ll do exactly as I instruct. I’ll be with you. You’ll go up to her and latch on from the rear. You’ll let your face and throat penetrate hers. She’ll never know you’re there. It’ll be that easy. You will be her buddy, her drinking buddy. She won’t see you, but she’ll feel your cuddling presence.”
That night Dexter took her down to Sassafrass’s on Earth. It was crowded, people in booths, people at the bar. The place was humming with life. Evelyn sat on a bar stool next to other drinkers.
Being back on earth was strange for Sheeka. The noise was muffled, the people ghostly in appearance and almost semi-transparent. She felt out of place, a dead person among the living. She watched in horrified fascination. Dexter’s words sounding like a weird echo.
“I’m ashamed of what I’m about to do,” she said. “I’m not a bad woman … This is … I already feel like a leech.”
“Don’t be a fool. You won’t be hurting her. You’ll just be pleasing yourself. So saddle up … Look over there. There’s another spirit having a drink. Do you see that man? You’re not alone. Go ahead.”
On the way over, a man walked through her. She shivered, felt violated, yelled at him in her astral voice. Of course he didn’t hear. Then she crept up behind Evelyn and placed her head and throat inside hers. She thought she smelled the gin, watched eagerly as Evelyn lifted the glass to her mouth. Evelyn swallowed, and Sheeka waited, waited for the taste she craved. And it came, but faintly. It was more like a whiff, like fumes, than a swallow. Was it real? Did she only imagine it? She dug in, her whole body from the waist up. She felt the swallows go down into her stomach. Or did they? It wasn’t the same. No, it wasn’t. It was disappointing. But it was still good. It was better than nothing.
For as long as Evelyn sat at the bar, Sheeka clung to her. When Evelyn made a move to get up and call a taxi, Sheeka cried out,
“No, stay and have another.” It was as if Evelyn heard. She sat back down.
Finally Dexter came back to get her, and Sheeka unclasped Evelyn. By now the bar had quieted into a woozy silence. Evelyn was one of the last to leave.
Dexter and Sheeka headed for the exit, not from the bar, but from Earth. Up the connecting corridor they flew. “How was it?”
“It was okay. But it wasn’t the same. I kept thinking I was imagining it. Was I?”
“Well, what if you were? You had a good time, right?”
She didn’t answer right way. Did she? I’m disgusted with myself. I don’t belong on earth. What’s wrong with me? I’m not even high. She was already unhappy.
“Look at it this way if you must be noble. She had a partner. And she had an extra drink. You gave that old prune a good time. You stuck by good old Uncle Dexter, and you did too.”
Sheeka dared to speak up. “I keep thinking of the woman in the white robe. She said you’re a lost soul and unhappy. She says she feels compassion for you. It’s confusing.”
“Do you think I don’t know who they are? They’ve been after me for years. They want to control me. They are weaklings compared to me. I could destroy them with the flick of my little finger. Compassion for me? I laugh in their stupidly glowing faces.”
“I’m just reporting what they said, Dexter.”
“Don’t Dexter me, little girl!”
“I only meant to—”
“Stop talking such rot! You disappoint me, Sheeka. I’ve given you my time and love. I found the ideal client for you. And this is what I get in return. Betrayal.”
They broke through the corridor into their overcast world. It resembled a dull, decaying city in America’s rust belt with its abandoned steel mills, stretches of barren fields, and run-down row houses. Its residents walked idly about—outwardly pleasing in their apparent youth, but spiritually dim, morally sloppy, most of them addicted to something that kept them close to earth. Dexter dropped her off at one of these houses and went on to his. He lived in a casino with its endless jingling noise, its glitzy lights, its cigarette smoke, its seductive games appealing to human greed. No natural beauty, no fresh air, no sunlight, no silence, no churches or chapels. No children. This was where he lived and felt at home.
